


You always meet twice

by littlemisscurious



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Luca Pasqualino, Luke Pasqualino - Fandom
Genre: Accidental meeting, F/M, London, handsome stranger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lilly does not believe in fate. That is until she meets the handsome stranger...again...and again...and again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You always meet twice

 

Lilly never believed in this “You always meet twice” nonsense. She didn’t believe in fate or providence, either, only in coincidence and luck. So far, life had given her no reason do doubt her beliefs. Until the day she met the handsome stranger…again.

When she’d moved to London all these years ago, she had realised soon enough that London by rain looked just as dreadful and sad as every other English city. However, as opposed to her native little village in Hampshire, London offered plenty more things to do on a rainy Sunday afternoon when going to the park or yet another shopping mall was no option for the petite brunette.

What Lilly loved to do then was visit a museum. Sometimes she went to smaller, lesser known ones like the Sir John Soane’s Museum or the Dennis Severs’ house. But more often than not she went to the big ones – British Museum, V&A, National Gallery, Natural History Museum – and spent hours roaming the exhibition rooms or the shop floors, always finding something else to marvel at.

She first saw him at the British Museum. It wasn’t a Sunday but a Wednesday morning this time and some of the rooms were comparatively empty on this dull, grey, and wet winter day. Her favourite item in the entire museum was the Sutton Hoo helmet. She’d heard about it first at school when they had talked about Beowulf and ever since she was fascinated by this discovery and the times it stemmed from. That morning he was standing right in front of it. The original, not the reproduction on the other side of the display, mind you. He was, in fact, occupying the very spot she had intended to take.

Suppressing a sigh, Lilly slowly walked towards the glass cases and let her eyes wander over the remaining items on exhibition. The Desborough Necklace, excavated in 1876 and originating in the 7th century was yet another fascinating item and yet Lilly couldn’t help but glance at the Sutton Hoo helmet every now and then and with it, at the – admittedly handsome – young stranger standing right in front of it. His longer, dark brown hair was framing his face perfectly and his eyes, the colour of her favourite chocolate cupcake, were seemingly fixed on the historical object.

Lilly wondered if he was really interested or if he was one of those who stopped in front of an exhibit and then drifted off with their thoughts, totally oblivious to the fact that they took up space that someone else might want to inhabit. So focused was she on her own train of thoughts then that she didn’t realise him looking over at first. For the briefest moments their eyes met and he smiled before he turned around and vanished in the adjoining room housing exhibits from Medieval Europe Ad 1050-1500. Was it weird that she knew that?

Shaking her head, a few tendrils from her bun falling around her face, Lilly tried to get the handsome stranger out of her mind when she took the spot he’d previously occupied and stared at the Sutton Hoo helmet.

It was at the V&A that she saw him next. A few weeks had passed and while it had generally become a little warmer, it had not necessarily become any less wet in the English capital. It was a Tuesday morning this time that she found herself in the rooms and endless corridors of the Victoria & Albert Museum in South Kensington. She had just wandered around the European galleries once more before she’d decided to head over to the café. Albeit expensive, it was a wonderful space and she loved sitting underneath one of the stained-glass windows, either reading or watching the other patrons.

He was already there when she balanced her cup of coffee and piece of cake on a tray, looking around for a free table. Opposite him was an empty chair but his book, coffee cup, empty plate, and museum map occupied the entire table. And anyway, she didn’t want to sit with him. He’d think she was stalking him after all.

She chose a seat by one of the columns. If she positioned herself correctly, he wouldn’t see her immediately but then again she wondered why she was making such a fuss about yet another Londoner (she assumed) who happened to visit the same museums she did. Lilly sighed quietly as she stirred milk in her coffee. He was allowed to do what he did just as she was allowed to do what she did. What did it matter?

Well, it did, because she found herself thinking of him afterwards. She wondered what his story was. Why did he go to museums? What room did he like best? Which was the most hideous exhibit in his eyes? And why did he look so sad when he thought no one was looking?

Summer in London could be anything, sunny and blazing hot or humid and horrendously wet. The latter was the case this one Thursday in May and free to do as she liked, Lilly made her way to the National Portrait Gallery. It was her favourite museum in all of London and she went there once a week if only to check if her favourite portrait – the one showing Lord Byron – was still there. She always started on the top floor, with the Tudors, and continued through each room until she ended up in front of Victoria and Albert. She never went to the section with contemporary portraits. They were too honest. She preferred the illusion of wealth and fame that could be found in those older ones as they portrayed grandeur and luxury and perfection.

He was sitting on the green leather sofa in room 14 right opposite the grand portrait showing the Death of the Earl of Chatham. He kept looking at it no matter how many people passed him and obstructed his view and once more Lilly wondered if he really was looking at it at all.

He was wearing the same leather jacket as before and once he ruffled through his dark brown hair before it fell in front of his face again, obscuring his eyes. She almost thought she could leave the room again without him noticing her but as she was steering towards the exit on the other side he got up and aimed for the same path. Stopping just before they bumped into each other, he looked at her and smiled before giving her the right of way.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, shyly, and quickly she dashed across the hallway and towards Lord Byron a few rooms down. This time, though, she wasn’t focused on the genius of British Romanticism as her thoughts were still racing around the handsome stranger she’d met for the third time now.

When she stepped into the grand foyer of the Natural History Museum a few weeks later, Lilly realised she wasn’t looking for a particular exhibit any longer. Every room she entered she scanned for him, expecting him around every corner she turned. Her eyes flitted over faces, barely recognising anyone who didn’t have longer, darker hair or wore a leather jacket. She was on her way to the exit again eventually, just heading down the grand staircase at the opposite end when she saw him staring up at Dippy, the Diplodocus.

For a moment she was transfixed, wondering how it was possible that they had met so often now, on such random days in such random places. Was he following her? But how? Or did she know him already maybe? No, she would remember someone like him, that’s for sure. While she wondered about the circumstances of their repeated encounters, he had crossed the grand entrance hall and was now only a few feet away from her. Slowly, Lilly descended the last few steps before she stopped, looking up at his gentle eyes.

“Hello,” he said quietly, almost whispering amidst the constant noise of the people around him.

“Hello,” Lilly replied just as quietly.

Silence followed as both were unsure what to say. They were strangers after all. It was he who spoke at last.

“I’m not sure how or why we’ve bumped into each other again but…I don’t believe in coincidence.”

“Well, I don’t believe in fate. Where does that leave us?” A small smile was playing around her lips, taking away some of the edge still audible in her voice. She was always ready to defend herself.

“Why don’t we discuss that over coffee? There’s a nice little place not far from here,” he suggested with a warm smile himself and after a moment of hesitation, Lilly nodded.

“Sure, why not. Um,…I’m Lilly by the way.”

His smile grew bigger as he accepted her outstretched hand. Breathing a kiss onto her knuckles but without taking his eyes off hers, he answered quietly, “Lilly, what a pleasure. I’m Luke.”


End file.
